


on this hotel bed

by perilousgard



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M, self-indulgent frickling and frackling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perilousgard/pseuds/perilousgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mako and Korra get a little distracted while out on a mission together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on this hotel bed

**Author's Note:**

> idk sometimes i get the urge to write smut with no point to it at all but somehow there was actually a little bit of plot in this?

The run-down apartment is damp, mildewed, and unquestionably deserted. Mako keeps a fire in his palm and Korra walks on the offensive, but there's not a sound save for the light scamper of rats and the drip of rainwater from the most recent storm through the cracks in the ceiling. When a fat drop lands on Korra's nose, she goes cross-eyed and flicks it away with a sigh.  
  
"If they ever were here, they're long gone now," she says, stepping over a section of plaster that had fallen away from the rotted ceiling. "We should get out of here. I feel like this whole place could collapse any minute."  
  
Mako nods absently, watching her back as he walks behind her. Even though her voice is perfectly even, he can see the lines of tension in her shoulders, betraying the stress she had been carrying for the past several weeks. With her Avatar duties constantly keeping her away from home and up at night, and Mako's police job sometimes keeping him until the early hours of dawn, they hadn't had much of a chance to spend some time together and relax. He studies the outline of muscle beneath skin on her back, knowing if he kneaded his fingers there he'd find them tense and tight.  
  
Korra turns back towards him, the orange glow of his fire highlighting her face with a golden hue. Night has fallen, making the ghostly apartment complex dark save for the small light in his palm. "Want to circle back around the top floor anyway? That's where they were supposed to be squatting."  
  
"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Mako replies, though he's not sure he trusts the stairs to hold their weight again.  
  
They wind back up to the top floor, the stairs creaking and heaving the whole way, and discover that the entire top floor is a penthouse-style loft. There's nothing glamorous about it; anything valuable that the gang kept here would have been taken long ago. But there's still sparse furniture, including a bed that looks inviting despite the fact that the mattress is dirty, ridden with holes, and probably infested. He watches Korra walk around the place, turning this way and that with the flame in her hand. They pull open closets, lift up the stained mattress, rifle through clothes that have been left behind.  
  
"Nothing," Korra says. "I guess the anonymous tip we got is just another dead end."  
  
Mako sighs, glancing toward the window where outside, the city is lit up and alive with color and sound, despite the late hour. "Should we head back to the station, then? We should review what we have and see if we can pick up any new leads."  
  
Korra drifts a little closer to him. "I want to stay here awhile..."  
  
"Korra, you know this is a hostage situation. The first forty-eight hours are -"  
  
"Critical, I know," she cuts in swiftly. "I'm not saying we should stay long. Come on, Mako, when's the last time we were alone together like this?"

 

He pauses, trying to guess where her train of thought is going. He has a pretty good idea, particularly when she steps in and tilts her head back to press a few soft, damp kisses to the exposed column of his throat. A shiver runs through him, but he gently grasps her shoulders and pulls back enough to look at her.

 

"Really?" he asks. "You want to do _that -_ here?"

 

She shrugs, already loosening her tall ponytail, dark locks cascading over the paler shade of her shoulders, and he can't help sifting his fingers through it, because she doesn't wear it down often and he _knows_ she's doing this to persuade him to stay. "Why not? There's a bed here. We can make it work."

 

It's always Korra who makes the adventurous suggestions, Korra who says _hey it's raining, let's go do it in the grass; that's a pretty nice ride you got, think we could have some fun in the back seat?_ Mako is practical; he really doesn't see anything wrong with their bed. Still, he never puts up much of a fight when she gets new ideas, as she usually makes it rather hard to resist.

 

"The bed springs will dig into your back," he murmurs as she pulls her tank top over her head, the light from the window throwing the muscles in her abdomen into sharp relief. His fingers trail over the curve of her hips and across the warm expanse of her back, pulling her closer to his body by the waist.

 

"I think I'll be all right," she says, and pulls his mouth to hers, quick and hard, lips already blooming beneath his and opening him up to the wet warmth of her. He has his arms hooked around her legs before he knows it, lifting her up high, and she wraps her legs around his waist as his hands cup the supple flesh of her bottom. He holds her there for a moment, enjoying her mouth on his and her hands in his hair, before he topples her gently to the worn mattress.

 

She's impatient, eager to take control, and his body moves willingly with hers as she reverses their positions and settles herself astride his hips, knees brushing his hipbones, fingers carding through his hair as she presses her lips to the spot beneath his ear, causing him to grunt and roll his hips up into hers. A moment later he's divested of his uniform, save for his pants, and she hastily pops the buttons open to slide her palm down the front.

 

"Korra," he gasps against her mouth at the first fiery touch, digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs. She wraps her hand firmly around him, poised above his lap at the perfect angle for him to tug at her bindings with his teeth until they unravel in a pool at her torso. Mako tests the weight of one plump breast in his hand before closing his mouth around the nipple, tasting sweat and sea and _Korra_ on her skin. She gasps, her hand faltering on his cock, and he takes advantage by shifting her so that he can press inside her.

 

The contact draws an intake of breath from both of them, because they've _missed_ this: the tender closeness of their two bodies singing in rhythm, the way they can make electricity fly through each other's veins, the way it makes them both feel so completely alive. She's so hot inside, burning him in a way that his own fire never has, causing her name to jutter from his lips before she's even gotten a proper rhythm going. His hands move around her bottom, molding to the soft curves, helping her move against him.

 

For a moment, she loses herself in sensation, leaning back in his lap and closing her eyes, soft sighs and pants escaping her mouth. Then she leans in and nips sharply at his ear, unexpectedly, and he pushes against her with a choked groan. She likes to play, and sometimes gets rough, and he likes it, _really_ likes it. She's left impermanent marks on him, dark bites on the pale skin of his neck; deep red marks down the sides of his back; rings around his wrist that Bolin said looked suspiciously like handcuffs. It had been hard enough for him to admit to her that he liked a little pain, but once he did, lovemaking got _very_ interesting.

 

Mako's nails dig into her ass as she alternatively nips and sucks at his neck, causing sweat to break out over his skin. He knows she likes this, too, his hands down here, guiding her, kneading the flesh. He keeps gripping her tight as she nibbles along his collarbone, teeth pulling lightly on the skin, and he's so lost in sensation that he nearly misses the words she growls into his ear.

 

"Spank me," she breathes, hands cupped around his face.

 

He opens his eyes, faltering just a little. “What?”

 

“You heard me,” she murmurs, lips brushing against his ear, never breaking her steady rhythm.

 

He bites his lip, feeling sweat begin to break out on his palms, and does as she asks, bringing his hand down hard against her firm, warm flesh. She cries out, back arching, muscles clenching, and he does it again, as his body floods with intense heat. It’s not much longer until she’s trembling, biting down on his collarbone, and he grips her tight against him as he lets go, every part of him burning for her.

 

Long moments later he realizes the mattress has sunken through a hole in the bed frame, and a spring is digging into the small of his back. He lightly rolls Korra over, his nose burying itself in the dark fall of her hair, fingers brushing against the sweat at her temples. She still has her lips pressed against the spot where his neck and shoulders meet, brushing barely-there kisses against his flushed skin. There’s nothing but the sound of their accelerated breathing and the wind blowing in through the cracked windows, and below them, the city continuing to move.

 

Finally, Korra raises her head enough to meet his eyes. She doesn’t say anything, but returns the smile he gives her and leans in to kiss him for a few long moments. He sits up, leans over the side of the bed, and hands Korra her top first, grabbing up his own pants. Their eyes meet and flicker away while they get dressed, prompting secret smiles and quiet laughs. Mako looks back at the dilapidated bed, touching the spot where the spring dug into his back, and shakes his head; the things this girl will convince him to do.

 

Korra smiles and stretches out her hand. “Come on, city boy. Duty calls.”

 

 


End file.
